Drabbles
by quiller
Summary: Drabbles written for the TIWF challenge plus a few more added for the Classic Thunderbirds Showcase C2 group
1. Chapter 1

_Author's note: these drabbles were written for the TIWF challenge to write 100 words on the following _

_A) Scott on a rescue_

_B) Virgil playing the piano_

_C) Gordon an Alan's relationship as brothers_

_D) Lady Penelope_

_E) The Thunderbirds_

_F) a parody_

_Standard Disclaimer: I acknowledge Granada as the copyright holders of these characters and thank Gerry Anderson for creating them._

(A)

"Virgil, come in please."

I look at the clock on Mobile Control. It's been ten minutes since he went into that burning building and I'm starting to feel concerned. He should have reported in by now.

I rub my sweaty palms against my thighs. This is the part of my job that I hate. The others may think I have it easy, sitting here, giving orders. They don't realise how hard it is for me to sit still and send them into danger, when all my instincts cry out to protect them.

"Virgil, do you read me?" Answer, damn you!

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(B)

"Virgil Tracy! Get away from that piano at once!"

The little boy gave a guilty start as a stern voice cut through the air. Reluctantly he climbed down from the piano stool and turned to face his grandmother.

"I wasn't playing, Grandma. Honest, I was only looking!"

It just wasn't fair that he was being punished. OK, he had hit Alan, but his younger brother had deserved it for knocking the water across Virgil's newly-finished painting. He walked from the room, a picture of dejection, turning to give his piano a last, forlorn look. Tomorrow was a long way away.

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(C)

I close the book and look up but you haven't moved. John said you didn't like 'Moby Dick' but I thought, fine, you can always wake up and tell me that yourself. I look at you lying there, tubes and wires connecting you to all the machines that surround you. Your chest moves slowly, but there is no other sign of life. What is going on under that copper thatch of yours? Are you dreaming? Why did you have to be in that damn hydrofoil anyway? I'm the speed freak of the family, not you.

Why won't you wake up?

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(D)

As the train enters the tunnel I watch the lights from the windows flickering on the tunnel wall. As ever, my mind goes back to another train, another tunnel. Lying tied to the rail, looking up at the train roaring only inches above me, while you lay with your body shielding mine and your hand resting on my cheek. It was a terrifying experience, but at the same time, one I will always treasure. Our eyes met in that flickering light, and something special passed between us. Or is this just a silly woman's imagination?

Did you feel it too?

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(E)

God, she's so beautiful. And she's mine.

I stand at the bottom of the silo, craning my neck as I look up towards the nose of the mighty rocket. I can still hardly believe that Dad has put me in charge of this, the biggest of the Thunderbird fleet. OK, I know Scott will be co-pilot, but I feel Dad is showing his trust in me. I'm no longer the irresponsible kid who nearly got thrown out of college when my model rocket exploded, blowing out half the windows on the campus.

I won't let you down, Dad, I promise.

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_This last one, though technically too long for a drabble, is too short to post on its own, so I am including it here._

_It was inspired over the Brits get-together in Nottingham in summer. One of the group was from Wales, so you can blame her for this!_

(F)

John stared at the console, his palms sweating. This was it – his worst nightmare come true. Tentatively he reached for the switch that connected him to Base.

"What have you got for us, John?" Jeff was businesslike as always.

"A bad case of subsidence, Father. A bus carrying a load of children has fallen down an old mine. The village is in a remote part of north Wales and the local rescue services have asked for our help."

"FAB, John. Scott's on his way. What's the location?"

John swallowed. "It's Lan… " he hesitated. " Clan…" the rest of the sentence was a mumble.

"Sorry, John, I didn't quite catch that."

John had a sudden inspiration. "It's Latitude 53 degrees, 10 minutes North, Longitude 4 degrees, 15 minutes West. "

As John signed off he couldn't stop a small smile from playing across his face. Scott was always so sure of himself, in any situation. Let him deal with the authorities at Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwll-llantysiliogogogoch


	2. Chapter 2

John

Every time John returned to Earth, the following morning he would climb to the highest point on the island. It had become something of a ritual He often wondered what Alan did when he returned home. Probably something involving a certain young lady and a bottle of coconut oil.

There were many things John missed on Thunderbird Five. His family, the sights and sounds of the island, fresh food, but one thing above all. Panting slightly, he climbed the last few yards to the summit and turned around, feeling the breeze caress his face.

The wind. Nothing could beat it.

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_This is what you get if you are tidying the shelves in the Art section of the library_

Extract from 'Encyclopaedia of 21st century art' 2157

Virgil Tracy (2041-2128). Regrettably, little of this artist's work exists in the public domain. His _Rocket to the Moon _in the Denver Art Museum, shows great vibrancy, while _My family_ in the Guggenheim, New York shows the artist's love of his subject.

The son of astronaut and billionaire Jefferson Tracy, Virgil chose to pursue a career as an engineer rather than an artist, then retired from public life to spend his days as a playboy and recluse on the family's Pacific island retreat. The rumours that he was part of the famous International Rescue organisation are, of course, totally unfounded

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Brains during C_ity of Fire_

Why did I put the oxyhydnite gear in Thunderbird Two? I should have brought it back to the lab after the test, or left it in the hangar. But no, I had to store it in the pod with the Mole.

Now Scott wants to use it to rescue a family from the tunnels under the Thompson Tower, despite what happened last time they used it.

Mr Tracy has given his permission, but if something goes wrong I'll feel responsible. I always do when my designs put his sons in danger. How can I face him if the worst happens?

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Eddie Houseman after _End of the Road_

I should be dead – blown to pieces at the bottom of that cutting. As I watched the Thunderbird machines fly away, I realised I had been given another chance. This time I won't waste it. This time I'm going to make something of myself. I'm going to start by making a certain young lady very happy. Yes, first chance I get I'm going to fly back to Tracy Island and ask Tin Tin Kyrano to be my wife. And I'm not going to take 'no' for an answer.

I want to make those International Rescue guys proud they saved me.

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Ned Cook in TINY

Drip.

I listen to the water, each drip ticking off the remaining minutes of my life. Joe's barely conscious now – he was injured in the original fall and the long hours in the cold and wet haven't helped.

Then the voice comes again. That voice is my lifeline. More important than the food, the oxygen or the heating that have been sent down to us, that voice has saved me. Sometimes it comforts, sometimes encourages, sometimes cajoles, but it's always there.

It's speaking again – something about swimming through a hole. I'll do whatever it asks. Just don't stop talking.

Please.

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End file.
